


The Trial of Harry Potter

by lindajenner



Series: The Aftermath of Hogwarts... and What Happpens next. [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindajenner/pseuds/lindajenner
Summary: Things don't go away, just because the bad guy is dead.Actions have repercusions and people must take responsibility for their decisions.
Series: The Aftermath of Hogwarts... and What Happpens next. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555228
Comments: 18
Kudos: 253





	The Trial of Harry Potter

The young woman stood with her best friends, one on each side of her, their faces battered and bloodied. Around them lay the crumbled remains of the Grand Viaduct Bridge. Broken railings, lamp posts were collapsed, and pieces of stone statues littered the bridge.

 _It’s over. What happens now?_ Hermione thought to herself.

Unfortunately, she was about to be answered.

“Harry!” The deep baritone of Kingsley Shacklebolt rang out.

The three turned as one, wands drawn ready to fight, but the moment they saw the ebony skinned wizard, their hands fell.

“Hey, Kingsley.” Harry said tiredly.

“Harry, we’ve a problem.” Kingsley’s voice expressed his concern.

“Another one?” Harry tried to joke.

“Another one, but this one is…” Kingsley took a deep breath. “Harry, the Ministry… there’s orders to arrest you.” He waited while Ron and Hermione exploded and held up a hand to quiet them. “It’s not new, it was issued in September last year.”

“After the Ministry?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. But today... and last night… it creates a problem. Thickness was minister. Was. He’s dead. Arthur stunned him, but he was crushed when the giants knocked through the greenhouses. Without a minister, the Ministry runs… differently.” Kingsley answered.

“In what way?” Harry and Ron were happy to let Hermione ask all questions.

“When a minister is killed in battle, Mordred’s Law comes into effect.” Kingsley held up his hand again. “Mordred’s Law states that before we can name a new minister, all outstanding Class One warrants must be finalised, in one way or another. And right now? Harry’s is the only one. The rest of the outstanding warrants only go as high as a Class Three”

“Shite.” Ron swore.

“No, that’s good. For Harry **_and_** the wizarding world. If I, or another Auror were to bring him in right now? Under Mordred’s Law? That’s when we’d have the best chance of him being cleared.”

“Why?” The young woman frowned, not understanding.

“Clause One, of Mordred’s Law, is all outstanding warrants must be finalised. Point One of Clause One, means that Harry would be judged by as many of the sitting members of the Wizengamot as are in the Ministry **_when_** he’s brought in. There’s no calling in extra’s, no emergency session. Only those already in the Ministry. Point Two of Clause One, states that the accused must be given an impartial trial. Now we know that there’s few people in the Ministry that can honestly claim to be impartial, but with Mordred’s Law, there’s no option. Those that sit in judgement, with the Ministry under Mordred’s Law, are placed under a memory charm, they’ll know absolutely nothing about Harry, the good or the bad, they’ll never have heard of the name 'Harry Potter' before, not until judgement is handed down. They’ll only have the facts to go on, nothing else. Once a judgement is handed down, the charm is lifted, and sentencing can occur.”

“So, even if Harry is convicted, when it comes sentencing, everyone present will remember him… and what he’s done here?”

“Yes, exactly. If the worst happens and he’s convicted, we can push the ‘he defeated the Dark Lord’ defence and request house arrest as his sentence.”

“House arrest? You want to lock **_me_** up like you did **_Sirius_**?” Harry snarled.

“No, formal house arrest is more forgiving.” Kingsley corrected him. “You’d have a bracelet that’s tied to an anchor stone, that will give you a certain amount of space. Usually it’s a hundred yards, but given your age and this,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “it’s more likely to be a thousand yards or one mile.”

“That’s not so bad.” Hermione blinked, even if Harry grimaced.

“And you get to choose the location.” Kingsley said to Harry.

“I…” Harry tilted his head. “I don’t want Grimmauld Place, but I don’t think I’ve any other options.”

“The goblins will know.” Kingsley told him.

“Yeah, can’t see them helping me, not after the dragon.”

“Ah, that’s the other thing, no one’s had a chance to tell you, yet. You’d only been gone a few minutes, when the guards dragged the goblin who’d helped you, in front of the bank’s Director, Ragnok. Under questioning, the goblin admitted to helping you, but planned to betray you, he would then claim you were robbing the bank and assist the guards, giving the bank the right to claim all your vaults in leu of reparations. Unfortunately for him, the vault you were accessing…? It was the trust vault of Bellatrix Black, before she married Rodolphus Lestrange. And before he… Sirius declared her marriage dissolved, something to do with not fulfilling their contract conditions. I don’t know, he didn’t go into detail, just went ahead and did it. That made her Bellatrix Black again and anything in the name of Bellatrix Lestrange, reverted to the name Bellatrix Black.”

“And Sirius made me his heir.” Harry said.

“Exactly. Being the Head of her House, you had the right to enter Bellatrix’s vault and remove any non-monetary item from said vault.” Kingsley grinned. “Which means, you had the right to be in her vault, so couldn’t be classified as break and enter or theft. That left the goblin in a bad place. He’d let his greed get ahead of his brain. Be thankful his injuries were as bad as they were, because of them, he was given a swift death, instead of the long and drawn out one, that the Director wanted.”

“Ouch.” Ron grimaced.

“With your consent, Gringotts will take the purely financial contents of Bellatrix’s vault as reparations for the damage caused, when you released their dragon. The goblin representative made it very clear, they would take only the ʛalleons, δickles and κnuts from that one vault. If that’s not sufficient to repair the damage, the remainder of the cost will fall to the goblin betrayer’s clan, not to you. Your business with the bank will continue as normal.” Kingsley explained. “And yes, they did put that in writing. Signed by the Director, personally.”

“I take it, that means something special?” Harry asked.

“Yes. It means that any goblin that tries to go against the statement, will find themselves short a head. Literally, short by a head, **_their_** head. Ragnok is the chief for all goblins in the UK, regardless of their clan, he speaks for every goblin in the UK. Every single one.”

“Ah.” Harry grunted. “So, no future problems with Gringotts, unless I do something after this?”

“Right.”

“Cool. So, what do you think we should do? About the warrant?” Harry asked, he knew that Kingsley was an Auror and knew far more about the ins and outs of the DMLE and the court system.

“My advice…? Uh… Have you got something that can only be opened by you? Something that no one else can access? A trunk or chest?” He paused when Harry pulled his tiny mokeskin bag out of his pocket. “Excellent. Expand it and put your most important valuables in it.”

“You’d best take the map, Harry.” Ron said, pulling it from his back pocket.

“I can put it in my… Oh, no. No, I can’t.” Hermione began, only to correct herself. “My bag is only expanded, there’s no security on it.”

“What security is on your bag, Harry?” Kingsley asked.

“None, that I know of. Hagrid says it’s mokeskin.”

“Ah, that explains a lot.” When Kingsley saw Hermione and Ron’s curiosity, he went on. “Mokeskin pouches are special, they can only be gifted, not bought, they tend to be heirlooms, passed down within a family. A bit like a wand chooses the wizard and it works best for that wizard, a mokeskin pouch bonds to their owner’s magical signature. No one else will ever be able to access its contents, while they're alive. They’re also a heck of a lot larger inside, than their outer size suggests, not quite in the same way as a bag that’s been undetectably extended or expanded, but similar. The other thing about mokeskin pouches is their ability to shrink items that come in contact with them, but only if the owner wants the item placed in the pouch.”

“Huh?” Ron grunted.

“If Harry touched his broom to the pouch’s opening with the intent to try and put the broom in the pouch, the pouch will shrink it, so that it’s exactly the size it needs to be to fit into the pouch.” Kingsley explained.

“Oh, I get it. Cool.” Ron nodded.

“How soon do we need to do this, Kingsley?” Harry asked.

“Bluntly, Harry? The sooner the better. It’s Saturday morning and early at that. Most people are going to still be home having breakfast and few of the Wizengamot members are going to be pro-active, most will wait for a summons. But under Mordred’s Law? That won’t happen.” Kingsley answered.

“Question?” Ron lifted a hand. “What if there’s not enough sitting members in the Ministry when Harry gets there? How many are actually needed?”

“Not a thing. We only need five sitting members for a trial… at least with Mordred’s Law active.” Kingsley told them. “If there’s no one in the Ministry, the first five members to arrive will be the judges.”

“Can I have a few minutes?” Harry sat down and pulled Hermione down beside him. “Pull out your bag, Mione. Let’s see if we need to swap some stuff over.”

“Be careful, Harry. Mokeskin pouches have a very finite amount of space. Unfortunately, that depends on the age of the Moke before it was skun, so it’s very hard to know until you’ve reached the limit.” Kingsley warned. “Don’t put in things that have much financial value, or the key to your vault. You'll need to account for those."

“Got it.” Harry nodded. “I don’t need much.” He emptied his pouch out onto the empty interior of one of the bridges fire braziers.

“Right, let’s see what we have. My snapped wand, that's sentimental. My photo album, not parting with that. The cloak, same. The map, same. My Firebolt, Sirius gave me that, no way in hell I’m letting that go. Two shirts. One pair of trousers. The snitch. My vault key. And… One of Hedwig’s feathers. Not much, is it?”

“Keep it simple, Harry.” Hermione cautioned.

“Right. Put the map inside the album and wrap it in the cloak and pass it here.” Harry directed. “Thanks.” He took the bundle from her and watched as it shrank and slid into the coin-purse-sized pouch. “Wicked. Now, my broom.” Ron passed that over and after it disappeared into the pouch, Harry dropped in the snitch, followed by the feather. “The clothes can wait. Hermione? Anything else you can think of? That’s vitally important?”

“No, not really, Harry.” Hermione said. “Some of these books are… restricted… but I don’t think that’s what you mean. Other than that, all I have is your rucksack. Oh here, the last of our ʛalleons.” She handed them to Ron, who passed them to Harry, who added them to the pouch.

“No, it’s not.” Harry shook his head. “And cool. Pass the rucksack over, I can put my clothes in it.”

Hermione handed over the badly worn rucksack, with a warning. “That’s not going to hold together much longer.”

“Leave it at that, Harry.” Kingsley cut in. “Keep your clothes in the rucksack, it’s condition just shows what you’ve been through in the last year. Put the key in your pocket and leave everything else with Hermione. It can be dealt with later.”

Six hours later, Harry sat back in the high-backed chair, the chains around his ankles and wrists holding him firmly in place. He exchanged long speaking looks with Hermione and Kingsley. Things were not looking good.

The list of misdemeanours connected to Harry were extensive. Sure, most of them were small, but there were a lot of them. Thankfully, Kingsley told him that after he turned seventeen and failed to board the Hogwarts’ Express, his school files were locked down, meaning that the only thing the Wizengamot could access were his OWLs and, if he’d taken them, his NEWTs. But that still left eight months of fighting a war. But that still left over twenty incidences.

And now? The Wizengamot were ready to hand down their verdict.

The wizard standing in the middle of the three witches and two wizards, stood up.

“We, the Wizengamot have reached a decision. It was not easily reached and required more information than expected. While Mr Potter’s school records have been sealed and denied us, we were able to gain statements from staff at the school. This has given us a clearer picture of Mr Potter and the motives behind his actions. While all of us present can understand and empathise, but under Mordred’s Law, we cannot condone his actions. Mordred’s Law forces us to take action solely based on the evidence provided. As such we have been forced to a single conclusion.” He paused and a single tear ran down his face. “We find Mr Potter not guilty on the counts of Disturbing the peace, involvement in the Death of a Hogwarts’ student, Assault on Ministry property, Destruction of Ministry property – Hogwarts and dementors, involvement in the Deaths of underage witches and wizards – multiple counts thereof, involvement in the Deaths of witches and wizards – multiple counts thereof and Desecration of historical artefacts – multiple counts thereof. He may have been involved but he was clearly not able to be responsible for many of these.” He lifted a goblet and took a sip of water. “On the charges of Apparition without a licence, Assault on Ministry personnel – four counts, Impersonating Ministry personnel, Destruction of Ministry property, Evading and Resisting arrest, involvement in the Death of a Lord of ancient and noble house, Assault on a Lord of ancient and noble house and their family, Desecration of historical artefacts – multiple counts thereof… we find Mr Potter… guilty. May Lady Magic have mercy on his soul… and ours…” Lucius Malfoy sat down and let the tears run down his face.

“The court will record a conviction of guilty.” The court archivist said clearly, before sighing. “Master of the Unspeakables? Please remove the binds of Mordred’s Law.”

“Certainly, Master Archivist.” A heavily cowled figure approached the bench and tapped his wand on the rostrum in front of the seated members of the Wizengamot, a glow of light rose and encircled the five members. As it faded, faces cleared and two of the witches began to sob, shock sat on the faces of the other three members and one trembled in his seat.

Lucius Malfoy blinked hastily wiped tears from his cheeks.

“Members of the Wizengamot, are we prepared to hand down a sentence?” Malfoy’s voice was soft and sad. When the two crying witches took deep breaths, straightened their shoulders and nodded, he went on. “Mr Potter, Mordred's Law is clear. The Punishment for the Death of a Lord of a Noble House is death, however… we may take into account your position and the fact that said Lord had made numerous attempts to end your own life. Please allow us ten minutes to confer. Court is in recess, please do not leave the courtroom.” Malfoy nodded to Harry and tapped his wand on the balustrade that surrounded the members seats.

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione was crying.

“Wait, Mione. Don’t panic, not yet. We don’t know what they’re going to do.” Harry tried to comfort her.

“We require the assistance of the Court Archivist. Sir, will you join us please? Clerk of the Court, please see to food for those in attendance and open the bathrooms connected to the courtroom.” Malfoy snr called across the room.

“Certainly, Mr Malfoy.”

“Yes, sir.” The two people responded and went in their separate directions.

Ten minutes dragged into half-an-hour and half-an-hour dragged into an hour, but eventually Malfoy and the other Wizengamot members came forward.

“This was difficult, Mordred's Law is clear, but we owe Mr Potter so much. As a result, we have done what we can to provide the best sentences that we can. Unfortunately, our options were not numerous or pleasant. We have done the best we can for you, Mr Potter and are prepared to allow you to select what you consider to be the most… palatable.” Malfoy sighed and tapped his wand on the balustrade again.

This time three panels flowed downwards from the balustrade capping to form what appeared to be three chalkboards.

“First is Life Imprisonment. No one here wants to sentence you to Azkaban, instead we suggest House Arrest, with a restricted distance of One hundred yards, in a place of your choosing.” As he spoke the board listed the conditions.

“Second is Life in Exile. You would have your magic bound and your memories altered and be sent into the muggle world to life the natural span of your life.” Augusta Longbottom whispered, and the conditions appeared on a second board.

“Third is to face the Veil. Death, in other words.” The wizard with oriental features said and the conditions appeared in the last board.

“Mr Potter, none of these options are very palatable, we know, but they are the only options we have under Mordred’s Law.” Malfoy said. “However, we are able to make allowances. Mordred’s Law stated Life Imprisonment, but it didn’t stipulate where, hence the house arrest. There was a cell size, but nothing was said about the space or structure the cell was in, or whether the cell was locked. The distance was clearly stated, however, the prisoner would have access to an external space but may go no further than one hundred yards from the cell.” The altered conditions appeared on the first board.

“Life in Exile usually means core and magic binds and deposited somewhere the muggle authorities can find you. However, we believe that to be insufficient. We would provide you with muggle identification paper and finances and allow you to life in peace.” The altered conditions appeared on the second board.

“The Veil. There are those in the wizarding world that believe life imprisonment or life among the muggles to be worse than death, hence the option of the Veil. We would allow you to write a Will and see to its reading and dispersal.” The extra line appeared.

“We will also allow you to make a further five suggestions or requests, for each option, which we will consider and either approve or deny, as the case may be. You will not be required to make a decision until we have considered those, however this will be resolved before midnight, tonight. You may confer with whomever you choose and will be released from your restraints until your sentence is carried out, however… you will wear one of these.” A slim band of leather was held out be Malfoy.

The clerk of the court took the band and slipped over Harry’s wrist.

“This will prohibit you from leaving this chamber, it’s office, or connecting bathroom, either by accessing apparition or portkey. The doors of the court are barred to you and you will not be able to remove the band without authorisation.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.” His voice was tired.

“As I stated, you may confer with whom you please. If they are not present, we can summon them, but keep in mind the time limit. It is approaching 4pm, now, and this matter must be resolved by midnight.”

“No, sir. Hermione Granger, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Unspeakable Croaker are the only ones I wish to confer with.”

“Very well, but if that changes, please notify us. You may use the office for your discussion. Please return when you have reached your decision.”

Harry nodded and when the chains fell away, he stood. He walked calmly across the courtroom and into the small office, there he turned and waited, he knew that Hermione would try and hug him to death for a few minutes.

And that’s exactly what happened.

His arms wrapped around his friend as the two wizards entered the office. He looked from them to seats near the desk.

“Come on, Mione, come on. I need you to get it together, please?” He tried to push her back, but she was clinging to him too tightly. “Kingsley? Hit her with a stinging hex, please?”

Hermione yelped and leapt back. “What was that for?” She demanded.

“I. Need. You. To. Think.” Harry said, his voice hard and cold. “I need you. Hermione, I need you to think.” He turned from his friend to the Unspeakable. “Is the Black library accurate? Is the veil, the Veil of Judgement? Or is the public story right and it’s the Veil of Death?”

The Unspeakable pushed his cowl back and showed his face. He was a man of middle years, his feature bland and forgettable.

“The Blacks always were too smart for their own good.” Was all he would say.

An hour and a few minutes passed before the four re-entered the courtroom. Harry went to the desk to the right of the accuser’s chair and laid down two sheaves of parchment.

“Mr Potter, have you reached a decision?” Malfoy asked.

“Not completely. It will depend on the court’s response to my requests, sir.” He answered.

“Very well. Enlighten us.”

“First. Life imprisonment. No. I’ve seen what that does to a man, I’m not prepared to accept that. Not even with a house and yard to roam. It drove my godfather insane and I’ve no desire to be like that.” As Harry spoke the first board went dull, fading until the lettering was barely readable.

“Second. Life in Exile. Maybe. I’ve suggestions for that.”

“Go ahead.” Malfoy nodded.

“One. I already have a muggle identity, thanks to my mother being a muggleborn, however I would like to change a few points. A change of name for myself, please. Which means a change to my father’s name. I would prefer not to tell the court at large, what I would have for my name, less chance of being targeted by a vengeful wizard, you understand?”

“Certainly.” Malfoy nodded.

“Two. I would like to have my appearance changed. Hermione suggested something linked to the bindings on my core, that they’d only be lifted when the binds are lifted. Or something that I cast, that can only be lifted by me. Which amounts to much the same. The reasoning behind this is caution. Let’s face it, if another Dark Lord turns up, the wizarding public is going to looking for someone to take them down. And three guesses who they’re going to be expecting to do that.”

“Point.” Malfoy nodded.

“Three. This bit is the bit that’s going to be the most difficult to work out, I think. If the binding is in place, any children I father are to be non-magical. If this can’t be done, I’d like St. Mungo's to make me impotent, I’d rather have no children than have them considered muggleborn, not with the prejudices in the wizarding world, as it stands right now.”

“We would have to consult St. Mungo's to determine the feasibilities of both options.” Malfoy warned.

“Yeah, we figured that. Fourth are my finances and current possessions. I want to keep them. Finances aren’t too hard to work out, Hermione’s got a few ideas written down, to choose from. My possessions? We figure, have them under charms with similar restrictions as with my appearance.”

“That could be done, we’d need to confer with a charms master, to be certain.”

“Unspeakable Croaker suggested Professor Flitwick, as the Unspeakables’ charms master was Augustus Rookwood and he was killed at Hogwarts.” Kingsley put forward.

“Fifth is a Will. I won’t be Harry Potter, anymore. I want to write a Will, and have it processed, have my estate sent where I want it to go.”

“Interesting ideas, Mr Potter. May we have a copy of them to review?”

“Of course.” Harry held up a sheet of parchment and the clerk of the court took it from him and gave it to Mr Malfoy.

“And your requests for option three, Mr Potter?”

“This option is… different and my reasons for looking at it that are threefold… A statement. A fact. And a trio of mottos.” Harry grimaced. “Almost all my requests are factored around a conclusion based on these.”

“Very well. Continue.” Malfoy replied, curiously.

“One. The statement. Albus Dumbledore called death ‘the next great adventure.’ Implying that there was some sort of afterlife or next life.” Malfoy just nodded as Harry held up a finger to indicate the number ‘one’. “Second. The fact. Sirius Black went into the veil. He went in wearing clothing and holding a wand. Nothing emerged from the other side of the archway. This implies that items can be carried on a person’s body, through the veil.” Malfoy blinked and tilted his head as he thought about that, but Harry kept talking. “Three. The mottos. These are collection from different places. Alastor Moody’s favourite saying was ‘Constant Vigilance’, almost everyone knows that. The Marauders were a group of boys that shared a dorm in the 70’s, their saying was ‘Expected the Unexpected and take advantage of it’. One of those boys was my father, another was my godfather and a third was a Professor at Hogwarts. The motto is ‘be prepared’. This comes from a muggle extracurricular group for children, that encouraged independence and leadership as well as teaching them skills to survive life.”

“And your hypothesis?”

“The veil is not an instrument of just death, but a portal to the next life, the next great adventure. One that will allow the person who enters it to travel _**elsewhere**_. That person can take with them whatever items they may carry.”

“Hmm… interesting. Please continue.”

“Thank you. So, based on that conclusion my requests are… One. A wand, preferably a custom one. I could be going to any situation and being armed will give me the opportunity to deal with that situation. And let’s be brutal. I’m a Potter, trouble seems to find me, whenever it wants to.”

Malfoy snorted inelegantly. “Too true, too true. Next?”

“Second. My mokeskin pouch. It was a birthday gift and holds the few things I have to remember my family by.”

“What exactly does it contain?”

“A photo album with pictures of my parents and friends. A family heirloom from my father, passed to me by Professor Dumbledore. A gift from my godfather. A gift from Professor Lupin, who was my father’s best man at his wedding. A gift from Professor Dumbledore. A gift from Hermione. A gift from Ron. A feather from my owl, Hedwig, she was killed last July. And the two pieces of my snapped wand.” Harry answered.

“Snapped?”

“Yes. It’s snapped completely in two, the wood and part of the core in separate piece.”

“I see.” Malfoy replied quietly. “Next?”

“Third. The contents of my Gringotts’ vault. Who knows where I’m going to end up? We considered muggle money but ruled it out as it may just be paper wherever I go. But ʛalleons? I’m told that if there’s no Gringotts within a thousand miles, to anchor the charms the goblins smelted into them, the coins can be melted down into pure gold. Gold is universal as a currency.”

“Indeed it is.”

“Fourth. Because I have no idea what type of environment or situation I’ll end up in, my fourth request is two changes of dragonhide battle robes. Glamoured to look like muggle clothes and a trench coat.”

“And your last request?”

“Lastly. A trunk containing anything that Hermione Granger thinks I may need. Hermione knows me better than anyone, she knows how I think, how I learn and what spells I can do. She’ll know if something comes under the heading of ‘Harry’s going to need this’. I trust her to get me everything I might need.”

Malfoy blinked. “That’s a very strong statement, Mr Potter.” He said blandly. "And quite Slytherin of you."

“It’s the truth, Mr Malfoy.” Harry replied, just as blandly.

“As you say. May we have the list of your requests, that we might consider them?”

“Of course.” Harry held up a second sheet of parchment for the clerk.

“While that is being fetched, Mr Potter, I would ask a personal question?”

“Only if you understand I may refuse to answer.” Harry warned.

“Certainly. The wand taken from you, the one placed in evidence. It’s familiar…?” He trailed off but raised an eyebrow in question.

“It is. I won it from a young man of our mutual acquaintance.”

“I thought as much. It’s been scanned and the last few spells it cast were purely defensive. As such, it can be returned to its original owner, if you consent.”

“I would appreciate that. He and I never got along, but at the very end, he chose the right thing over the easy thing.”

“Yes… He has written to Professor McGonagall, requesting permission to return to Hogwarts to assist in the rebuilding, as reparations for his actions. A comment from you would go a long way to having the other students accept this.” It wasn’t a request, but at the same time, it was.

“I’ll have Hermione write something up for McGonagall to read out. The fact that he walked away, and that the students all saw it? That’s in his favour.” Harry nodded.

“Thank you, Mr Potter.” He took the parchment the clerk was patiently holding. “The Wizengamot will confer and inform you of our decision.”

Fifteen minutes later Harry was holding his breath and Hermione’s hand. Would the five members of the Wizengamot agree to his requests? Would he get what wanted?

“The sitting members of the Wizengamot have reached a consensus…”

**Author's Note:**

> Dun dun Duuunnnn  
> Cliffhanger, I know, but this is really more of a prologue for each part of the series, than it is a stand-alone.  
> I'll get the first chptr of story one, up in the next week or so.


End file.
